


Learn to Stand

by Curlyhurlyburly



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, F/M, Humanstuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 05:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curlyhurlyburly/pseuds/Curlyhurlyburly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He calls you Tulip. You call him Tuna. He tries so hard. You wish he knew how proud you are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learn to Stand

You call him Tuna. He calls you Tulip. 

Your name is Latula, a name that was supposed to mean something in your grandma’s native language. You have some doubts. 

His name is Mituna. This has no explanation. 

You transferred to his school in the tenth grade, and spent the first year there tormenting yourself. The coolest guy in the whole school had chosen you as his very own personal punching bag. Not literal punching, just relentless teasing. He would call to you in the halls. 

‘Hey, cutie!’ 

‘Tulip, where are you going after school?’ 

‘You look really nice today, Latula.’ 

Awful, terrible teasing. 

It was only one day close to finals that he invited you over for a study-date. You had told yourself you wouldn’t go a thousand times, but the more you thought about it, the more tempting it was. You conducted an elaborate plot to blow up on him in his own house; make him feel awful for what he’d done to you. 

You had planned to stay in the doorway and totally tear him to shreds. But he smiled at you when you arrived and you couldn’t help it. He offered you a chair in his kitchen and you got yourself a glass of water. Just to be safe. And you started studying. Really studying. And he kept giving you looks. Like he was planning something. With a smirk on his dumb face. 

He said ‘You’re cute when you concentrate.’ 

And that sent you off the deep end. 

‘Why do you do that shit?’ you snapped. Mituna’s eyes went wide. ‘Why do you tease me all the time? What do you have against me? Cut it out, you asshole!’ 

He looked like you had slapped him in the face, which is what you were already planning to do. 

‘Tulip,’ He said, mouth ajar. 

‘Don’t call me that!’ you seethed, picking up your glass of water and pulling back your arm for a seaworld-worthy splash. In the middle of your attack, he stuck out a strong hand, attached to a long and lanky arm, and stilled your wrist. Water went all over the floor. 

‘What are you trying to do?’ he yelped, taking the glass from you. 

‘Why do you hate me?’ was your response. Mituna sank back in his chair. 

‘You think I hate you?’ he asked. You really couldn’t help it. Tears started to well in your eyes. 

‘You always make fun of me! I don’t know why!’ 

Mituna’s face was dripping with disappointment. This is where you began to question this whole thing. He scooted his chair around to you, putting his arm around your shoulders. You tensed up, and he didn’t take long to remove it. 

‘Latula,’ He said. ‘I really like you. I don’t know what kind of messed up self esteem you have that you would assume I was picking on you, but I think you’re freaking cool as hell. I’m being totally genuine, I promise times a billion.’

‘But you’re cool,’ you reminded him. ‘i’m dumb and you’re the coolest guy, like, ever.’ 

He scoffed. 

‘Okay well you’re the coolest girl, like, ever.’ 

You blushed. Furiously. 

‘Alright listen. You and me are gonna go on a date this Sunday and you’re gonna stop thinking of me as a horrible jerk because holy cow seriously where did that even come from?’ 

And you did. And Mituna Captor wasn’t so bad at all. 

 

Tuna’s a skateboarder. He’s just about the best skateboarder at the school. He lets you watch him at the skatepark and all the girls are crazy jealous. You’ve tried the whole thing a bit yourself, but you have a terrible sense of balance. He thinks you’re awesome anyway. 

Even now he’s grinning at you from the bowl, disappearing and reappearing from the ground. And you’re waving to him each time he comes up. If you could keep that boy in your pocket you would. But that’s not really so necessary. You’re his. And he’s yours.

~

 

You hate Cronus Ampora. The hipster douchebag who lived on the coast until he decided a sailor’s life wasn’t cool enough, and pushed his filthy rich parents into moving downtown. 

Cronus is into guys. This isn’t the problem. The problem is that he’s into the guy that happens to be your boyfriend. 

He smokes a lot too. He’s overall terrible. But Mituna tells you to relax. He tells you not to worry. You don’t trust Cronus Ampora, but you trust Tuna.

 

Early in June, when you’re sleeping in his arms, he says something rather remarkable. You and he have never had sex, but you like sharing a bed. As it turned out, he’s a little bit conservative. And you certainly don’t mind a man willing to wait. 

Tonight he’s looking a little misty-eyed. He does this all the time. Sometimes he thinks until he simply can’t think anymore and conks out. Other times you catch him with tears dripping from his eyes. 

His mom hates him because he had a boyfriend in ninth grade and has never forgiven him. He’s told you a thousand times that you’re not just around to make him ‘look straight.’ You’ve told him a thousand times it doesn’t worry you but he acts like you don’t believe him. 

Mituna’s very sad, in a strange way. He acts happy all the time until the house gets quiet and his gears start to turn. His mom hates him and he sometimes starts to hate himself. Tonight he starts sniffling into his pillow and he’s still holding you as if he feels weak and he’s trying to be strong. You kiss away the first tears and rub circles into his shoulder blades and he apologizes. 

“No,” You say. “Please don’t apologize.” 

“I’m sorry,” He says, for apologizing this time. He wipes his face on his pillow and sniffles hard. With a loud sigh, he pulls you in tight against himself.

“Latula,”

“You’re too good for her crap, Tuna,” You cut in. But he says it anyways. 

“I love you.” 

And after that night, you don’t see him for two weeks. 

 

It’s very late at night. You’re in your bedroom, and for the fourteenth night, you’re calling him. Calling his cellphone relentlessly. Calling his home. Calling his friend Kurloz and calling the places you know he likes to go. For the first time in two weeks, his mother picks up. She tells you he’s gone on a road trip with his friends. This is a lie, because Kurloz hadn’t mentioned it and Kurloz has never lied in his life. 

You go to his house this time. His mother tells you to leave. 

“Where is he?” You demand. You have every right to know. 

“I told you he’s gone,” She spits, all at once. And then the door is slammed in your face. 

You make it a single block before collapsing on the curb, sobbing your eyes dry. He must have gotten tired of you. He must be trying to ditch you. You’re terrified, not by the notion of him leaving you. You’re terrified that he’s hurt. That he’s in trouble. That he’s hating himself all over again. You’re crying into your hands at 11PM and you’re a total mess and you only care about him. 

And then, a twist in fate occurs. The grating voice of a smoker cuts clean through the night air. 

“You look cold as hell.” 

You want to lurch. You want to scream. You want to run. Instead, you turn to the voice and focus as much hatred as you can into your glare. 

“Hell is hot, you tool.” 

Cronus Ampora tilts his cigarette with his teeth. 

“I swear, if you have anything to do with this-“

“I don’t,” He insisted. 

“But you know what I’m talking about,” You accuse. He nods, sheepish. 

“I do. I only saw it once though.” 

Now you’re up on your feet, right in his face. 

“Saw what?” You demand. He tilts his head now, cigarette pluming between your faces. 

“He hasn’t told you,” He says. It isn’t a question. 

“He hasn’t talked to me in two weeks! I haven’t even seen him!” You cry, growing more upset by the millisecond. 

Cronus plucks out his cigarette and drops it, snuffing the butt under his vintage cowboy boot. 

“He’s doin’ drugs at the gas station on 24th.” 

You nearly lose your dinner right there on those pretentious shoes of his. 

“He’s skippin’ school, right?” Cronus continues. “Goes home in the middle of the night and leaves when it’s nearly night again. His mom is just lettin’ him.” 

“How do you know this?” You choke on the words. 

“I was watchin’ him. Kurloz thinks he stopped him for good when he only stopped him once. You wanna know why you don’t know? He thinks you’re too good for him.” 

Everything but the last sentence is just cotton in your ears. You step away from Cronus, clutching your arms with talon-like fingers. 

“Too good for his problems,” Cronus adds curtly. You take off running. 24th is four blocks away, out on the highway. You probably don’t have much time. 

“Latula, I ain’t your enemy!” Cronus shouts after you.” You spare a second to turn on your heel. 

“Stay away from him!” You clamor. And you’re back on your route. 

~

Behind the gas station, there’s a dip in the ground for the cars leaving the drive-thru carwash. That’s where you find Mituna, huddled against the building. His head shoots up when he hears you coming, and you leap into the dip as he gets to his feet. You grab his arms. 

“Tulip,” He moans softly, voice raw. “Tulip I fucked up.” You don’t say anything. You just pull him into your arms. He’s so much taller than you, and his head droops way down to your shoulder. He’s shaking. You think he must be high out of his mind, or maybe he’s just scared. He’s apologizing over and over again and you don’t say anything in return. Not because you’re angry, but because you have nothing in your vocabulary that could calm him down at this moment. 

“I’ll never ever do it again,” He says.   
“I know you won’t,” You manage. 

You get him to your house with some effort. He’s already passed out by the time you’re putting him in your bed. And you make sure he’s completely unconscious before bursting into tears. 

You’ve always pegged yourself for a tough person. It’s unfortunate that someone had to come into your life and make you so vulnerable. And god, you love him. You love him so damn much. 

When you wake up, you notice he’s found your hand in his sleep. He holds it with tremendous force, like he’s clinging on for his life. You take the chance to inspect his arms, and there’s only one bruise on the vein in the crook of his arm. That had to have been the breaking point. You don’t know what else he took, but you have to assume that anything injected is the worst of the bunch. There are dark purple bags under his eyes, and it seems as though he hasn’t showered in a while. You have to twist your arm a thousand different ways just to free yourself from his grasp. 

There’s just enough pancake mix in your kitchen to make exactly how many he’ll need. Which is a lot. You top it off with a tall glass of orange juice and put it on the table before returning to your room. Mituna is awake now, sitting up and hunching over. 

“I’m gon’ throw up tulie,” He slurs. You carefully help him to the bathroom, where he quickly drops to his knees and throws up in the toilet. You rub his back and his arms, trying to make the awful discomfort of throwing up a little less awful. 

When he’s done, he spends a few moments sitting on the floor, looking far, far gone. His eyes are bloodshot and his lips are pale.

“I made you breakfast, Tuna,” You tell him softly, patting his messy hair. He’s breathing very slowly. 

“I’m so sorry,” He mumbles. You shake your head. 

“It’s okay, babe,” You assure him. “It really is.” This time he shakes his head. “I made you breakfast,” You repeat. 

“I ruined everything in every possible way,” He whimpers. You stand up, taking his hand and pulling him onto his feet. “I’m terrible, Tulip,” He continues. You don’t listen. You pull him along into the kitchen and sit him down in front of the food you made. You must admit, you have perfected the art of puppy eyes. He eats without much struggle. 

“I’m a screw-up,” He says between bites. “I ruined our relationship and I’m awful.” You listen to him, but you sure as hell don’t try to interrupt him. “I disappeared for two weeks. You must have been scared. I’m the worst boyfriend ever. I’m stupid. I’m really stupid.” 

After he stops for a minute, you decide to cut in. 

“Are you done?” You ask. He nods, setting down his fork. “I’m not mad.” 

“You should be,” He replies quickly. 

“I love you, Mituna.” 

And for this first time in a long time, he smiles at you. He fights it, of course. But he really can’t help it. 

“I love you too,” He says. His smile quickly turns into a wide grin. He’s so happy. You’re so happy. 

And for a while, he’s clean. You know he is because Mituna could never lie to you. And he’s alright. Whatever his mom had done to him, he won’t say anything about it. Apparently, though, he’s over it now. You truly hope that’s the case. And despite the incident, he’s still all smiles at school when he attends. The girls still love him. You still love him. 

~

You’re in the middle of the eleventh grade, winding down for spring break. Mituna is happy with his Bs and C+s, and you’re happy with your As. You’re more of the studying type. Sometimes you still have trouble figuring out why the cool skateboarding guy chose the dorky new girl over all his hoards of adoring fans. But then he kisses you or squeezes your hand or just calls you Tulip and you’re convinced all over again. 

Today he’s trying to pull you around the school on his skateboard, and you’re shaking madly. And he’s pretty much doing all of those lovely things he does, but it’s not helping you balance. At one point, he lets you go and you almost get it right. Almost stand up straight on it. And then you crash very very hard. 

Mituna’s just about shrieking. He picks you right up and holds you so you hardly have to stand. Your knee is scraped to hell and back through your nylons and he’s panicking more than you are. 

“Are you alright Tulip?” He asks, shoving the skateboard away. You nod. “Does it hurt?” 

“I’ll be fine,” You insist. He takes you to the nurse’s office anyway. 

While you wait for the nurse to get all her stuff together to fix the scrape, Mituna squeezes your hand tightly in both of his. 

“I hurt you,” He says. You shake your head. 

“I’m the one who fell off the skateboard,” You laugh meekly. He doesn’t respond to that. Instead, his eyes go a little misty and he looks like he’s choking. “Tuna?” 

“Tulip, listen,” he says. His voice is quiet. “I have a confession to make.” You tense up. “It’s not drugs,” he says quickly. You wait for him to go on. “I… the boyfriend I had in ninth grade…” He looks like a puppy that’s about to be hit by its owner, but you’re just listening silently. He takes a deep breath. 

“Was Cronus.” 

This shocks you a little. You aren’t mad. You aren’t upset. It’s just… strange. You hate Cronus Ampora, but… this doesn’t seem very awful at all. 

“I’m sorry,” Mituna adds. 

“Sorry?” You ask. “I mean… okay, whatever.” And you mean it. Whatever. It means nothing. 

“You’re not mad?” He asks. You shake your head, smirking. “Man, are you ever mad at me?” You shake your head again before kissing him. 

And it stings like hell when the nurse pours alcohol on your knee and you’re sad to throw out your nylons, but the thought that really fills your head is Cronus. 

It makes sense. Cronus liked him before, and still has residual feelings for Mituna. Total sense. And your mind is pretty at peace and everything is pretty okay. 

Until one day Mituna comes to school smelling funny. He’s late to class and he looks tired; different. His eyes are very red and he’s very quiet. And he avoids you. Mituna has never avoided you in school before and you’re already worried. At lunch, you grab his wrist and take him to the abandoned courtyard. 

“What’s going on?” You ask. You run your knuckles along his cheek, and he pulls back. “Tuna?” 

“Tulip,” he says. He doesn’t have anything else to say but that. His voice is slow. 

“I’m worried,” You tell him. 

“Don’t be,” He replies. 

“Tuna, you don’t sound right,” You point out. He swallows hard. You go right up to him, and he’s backing away but you smell it anyway. Marijuana, clear as day. And now you both take a step back.

“Tulip,” He says again.

“You know,” You say, feeling your throat constrict. “I wasn’t mad at you. Never ever. I was scared as hell.” His eyes are wide. “But you promised me. And now I’m mad.” 

“Tulip.” 

If you hear it one more time, you’ll go nuts. 

“Why won’t you even tell me what’s making you feel the need to do all this? You ask, tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks. “I love you so much and sometimes I feel like you’re trying to hide this from me. I don’t want you to!” 

Mituna is slack-jawed. He takes a deep breath, shakes his head, and then starts to leave. And you let him walk away from you. 

“Tuna,” You say softly. “Tuna,” Louder now. “I didn’t mean to snap, Tuna!” You call after him. He’s still walking, planting his face in his hands as he leaves like he’s crying too. “I’m sorry, Tuna, come back!” But he’s gone. And you’re sure that you’re both crying. 

The next morning is a Saturday, and you awake to a knock at your door. You’re all miserable over what happened, so you stay in bed. But the knocking is persistent. Your parents aren’t home and you know it won’t go away, so you answer the door in your flimsy spring pajamas. 

And there he is, purple bags under his eyes and a bundle of garden flowers in his hand and he lets himself in and you nearly crush the flowers when you jump up to hug him. You kiss him a thousand times and you both apologize until the word ‘sorry’ doesn’t sound right anymore. 

He says it was a one-time thing and you trust him with all your heart because you simply can’t do anything else. 

~

It’s nighttime and Mituna is driving you around in his shabby sedan. You were supposed to go to one restaurant, but it was closed, so now you’re looking for another one to go to. You’re listening to the music on the radio and holding hands between your seats. It’s starting to look like you’re too late for dinner out.

“This sucks,” You complain. Mituna smiles. 

“We can still eat together,” He says. “It’ll just be something lame at home.” 

“Well it doesn’t have to be lame,” You tell him. He nods. You expect him to turn around to go home, but he doesn’t yet. 

“Tulip,” He says quietly. You run your fingers along his knuckles, waiting for him to continue. “I know you don’t want to hear another confession.” You look up to meet his eyes. “But I’ve got one.” You take your hands off of his and direct your full attention to him. He’s nervous. 

“I’m asking you not to get upset. Just whatever you do, try not to get upset. Not for my sake, for yours. I don’t want to hurt you again.” 

You’re totally ready, giving him your most ready expression and posture possible. You really don’t want to hear it, but you have to trust him. Mituna takes a deep breath, eyes on the road. 

“Tulip, I love you,” He says softly. 

“I’m listening, Tuna,” You prod, trying to sound as inviting as possible. 

“When you got upset at me for smoking, and I left, I was feeling really torn up,” He mumbles slowly. “I felt like I had burned a bridge, and that I had no one to turn to.” He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing with obvious strain. “I was stupid and crying and stoned.” He looks at you, and you’re looking back at him. He sinks back in his seat. “I went to Cronus. And we kissed. Once.”

You try not to act surprised. You try so damn hard not to feel hurt. But with everything that’s happened, you feel 

Shredded to bits. 

“You kissed him,” You repeat. 

“Once,” He adds. His voice is quivering and he sounds like he’s about to cry. You want to cry too. 

“Mituna,” You say. You haven’t used his full first name in a long time. He grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. “How stoned were you.” He nearly chokes. 

“Not even that stoned,” He admits. He turns back to you. “Tulip I love you.” 

“I’m not mad that you kissed him, Tuna,” You say. He almost relaxes. “I need you to tell me something.” You’re sure he can hear the twist in your throat now. “Mituna, do you still have feeling for him?” 

“No,” He answers quickly. 

“Do you have any feelings for Cronus Ampora?” You ask again. He hesitates this time. 

“No,” he says. His voice is unsure. You’re about to cry and you need to go. 

“My house is around the corner,” You say, as if he doesn’t know that. “You can let me out here.” He makes a loud noise of desperation, but pulls over anyway. You get out and start walking down the sidewalk. He follows beside you in his car, leaning over the passenger seat as he drives. 

“I don’t have feelings for him!” He insists. “I only realized that I wanted him as a friend again, that’s all!” He means it, you can tell. But you pretend not to hear him. “Tulip, I love you!” 

“I need to be alone, Tuna,” You tell him, trying to pick up your pace.

“Tulip,” He begs. His voice rings out sad and quiet in the cold night air. You can feel the tears in your eyes. You’re hurting for both of them but you really just need time to think. 

“Go get some sleep,” You say, just barley loud enough for him to hear. 

You near the corner and he has to turn the car. He’s looking at you at he does it, and you’re the only one that sees another car barreling down the road. 

The two cars crash in slow motion, and it’s so noisy you think your eardrums have ruptured. You’re knocked to the ground, shielding your face with your arms. And when you open your eyes, all you can see is Mituna’s car, and it’s completely totaled. 

You’re screaming, as if Mituna’s doing this on purpose and you can convince him to stop. The stranger’s car’s front is crushed in, and the car you had been sitting in not a minute earlier has finally ended up on its side, propped against a street lamp. A man comes stumbling out of the other car, eyes wide with fear. 

“Call 911!” You shriek, not caring if he’s bleeding to death or missing a head or anything. You run around Mituna’s car. He’s hanging out of the shattered windshield, half of him touching the ground and half still firmly in his seat. There’s a lot of blood and you almost pass out, but adrenaline ensures you stay awake to frantically try to get to your unconscious boyfriend. The stranger is alright, you learn, because he’s called 911 and the ambulance and police are already here. They yank you, kicking and screaming, away from the car. Once your mind has even the slightest reason to believe things are under control, you faint. 

When you come to, you’re in a hospital. It doesn’t matter to you if you are supposed to stay calm or stay seated or stay any one way at all. You ask surrounding nurses where Mituna is, and they tell you you can’t see him. 

“Is he alive?” 

“Yes.” 

“What happened to him?” 

“He’s suffering from a concussion.” 

“Will he be okay?” 

“That has yet to be seen.” 

“Will he survive?”

“He has a very good chance of surviving.” 

The answers simply aren’t good enough for you. The nurses ask you to sit down, ask if you need anything to eat or drink to keep you steady. You deny all of their requests. Your parents arrive and you don’t care at all. 

“Is Mituna’s mom here?” Your own mom asks. The nurse explains to her that she answered the phone, but has not showed up. You’re angry, and relieved at the same time. 

No one can quite calm you down. You’re not frantic. You’re demanding. You want answers. You want to see him. Eventually, they manage to give you some calming herbal tea. You hold the cup with claws poised to strike. You drink with short, angry sips. But the tea smells pretty great and it managed to patch up the ends of your frayed nerves. 

You lose track of time, and only then does a nurse approach you again. 

“We have some news from the doctor,” One of them says. Her hands are clasped at her front. “He is going to survive. He is not badly injured, but he’s… he has some retrograde amnesia. Only spanning about a month. And…” 

You’re holding your breath and you’re angry because it looks like she is as well. 

“He does have some brain damage. His motor skills and communication skills are badly impaired.” 

Your heart is broken. So horribly broken you can’t even feel it anymore. 

“Is he hurt?” You ask. 

“Physically, he’s fine,” The nurse answers. “But mentally,” 

“Is he upset? Is he scared?” 

“He doesn’t really know what’s happening,” The nurse tells you. Her voice is growing impatient. “He’s really very-“

“Does he want me? Is he asking for me?” 

“Ma’am, we don’t think it’s the right time to see him. He’s not the same.” 

“Let me see him!” You snap. Your father takes hold of your arm. Tears are in your eyes and the nurse looks very frustrated. They keep trying to tell you he’s messed up and different and you simply won’t listen. 

“Alright,” The nurse says softly. Your father lets you go and you follow her without looking back. 

 

Mituna doesn’t look different. He looks goofy and smiley and happy to see you, just like always. He looks tired, of course, but that is to be expected. You sit in the chair next to his bed and tale his hand. He doesn’t grip yours in return. 

“Hey, Tuna,” You say. You smile at him and he smiles back. “How are you feeling?” 

“Tulip,” He says. His voice is strange, like there’s something foreign in his mouth. “Tulip.” You nod, rubbing his knuckles carefully. 

“Do you feel okay?” You ask. 

“I crashed,” he says slowly. He still smiles when he says it. “ I dunno.” 

“What do you remember?” You ask. It’s becoming hard to listen to him. 

“Pancakes,” He laughs softly. He hasn’t become mentally handicapped, you can tell. He still has a brain in his head and he’s still the same person. He’s just… farther away. 

“Tuna, do you remember why I made you pancakes?” you ask. He pauses to think for a moment, and then his eyes go wide. 

“I did something bad,” He says. He sounds like a kid realizing he just hit a cat with his bike. 

“No, it’s okay,” You say. “You didn’t.” You smile at him, and he evens out a little. “It’s okay , forget about that.” 

He lifts a hand to your face, but can’t seem to get it to work how he wants. It falls back to his side and he regards it with disappointed eyes.   
“I love you Tulip,” He says. It doesn’t sound romantic when he says it. It doesn’t sound very loving at all. It sounds frightened and young and fresh into the world. Like a child loving his mother. You know he doesn’t mean it that way. 

“I love you too, Tuna,” You tell him. But his eyes have gone unfocused and you assume he doesn’t hear it.


End file.
